Chapter Twenty-One
The sight of Kevin and Elvis lying so still in the road punched the air from Regan’s lungs. Her legs were leaden with shock. This couldn’t be happening. Charlie reached them a moment before Regan and fell to his knees at Kevin’s side. He quickly checked Kevin for vital signs whilst the rain continued its onslaught.
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ she said, and with fumbling wet fingers Regan dialled 999.
‘Is he alive?’ she asked, crouching next to Kevin, the whole time watching Charlie’s face for a hint of hope. Her call was picked up and Regan asked for an ambulance, giving details of where they were. The rain was now bouncing back up off the road, having upped its ferocity. Charlie undid Kevin’s coat and harshly pulled it open.
‘He’ll catch his death,’ said Regan, alarmed to see Kevin’s T-shirt darken from the rain. Charlie’s expression was grim as he laced his fingers, locked his arms and commenced chest compressions with a force that frightened her. Charlie was using his whole body in an attempt to pump life back into Kevin. She looked about. She felt utterly useless. There was nothing she could do.
The 999 operator reassured her that the ambulance wason its way. A few people sauntered out of the pub, but on seeing the rain most soon disappeared inside again. A barman came over with a golf umbrella and held it over Charlie and Kevin as best he could. He gave Regan a wan smile but after that he stared resolutely at the ground. Seconds ticked by, each one making the situation more hopeless. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Elvis. He was a large grey motionless mass on the periphery of her vision.
A police car appeared first, its siren screaming to them long before the vehicle itself. The blue lights threw an unnatural glow on the scene. Two officers got out and one immediately started to speak into his radio. The other officer strode over and began asking questions, but Regan couldn’t pull her eyes away from Kevin. She shook her head. ‘I’m on the phone to the ambulance.’ She knew it sounded lame but the 999-operator was still intermittently speaking to her, and right now it was too much to ask her brain to focus on what the officer was saying. She watched the police officer share a quick word with Charlie, who didn’t lose his rhythm for a second – he was relentless.
At last the ambulance swung into view, pulling up at speed right next to them, and two paramedics jumped out. The female paramedic was quick to take over the chest compressions from an exhausted-looking Charlie. He sat back on his haunches with rain trickling off his hair and down his face. He looked at Regan but she didn’t want to see the sadness in his eyes. Charlie got to his feet and left the paramedics to do their job. Without a word, he lifted Regan to her feet and ended the call on her phone. The police officer guided Regan and Charlie out of the road and onto the pavement and reminded themthat they weren’t to go anywhere without giving a statement.
‘They’ll save him, won’t they?’ Regan’s eyes were fixed on Kevin’s lifeless body. She needed to hear something positive; some hope that she could cling to; but, in her heart, she already knew the answer she wasn’t ready to accept.
Charlie cleared his throat. ‘It’s been twenty minutes now.’
One of the paramedics shouted ‘Stand clear’ and they shocked Kevin. His whole body lurched, and for a second Regan was filled with hope. The other paramedic resumed the chest compressions. Minutes passed, until eventually the male paramedic shook his head and the woman checked her watch.
‘Nooo!’ yelled Regan, throwing herself forward. Charlie threw an arm out to intercept her. He held her tight, stopping her from running into the road.How could the paramedics stop? They couldn’t give up on Kevin.She fought Charlie until he pulled her back into his arms. He held her firmly while she sobbed, letting out great heavy blubs. An ocean of sorrow engulfed her and she clung to him.
More police arrived and the area was quickly cordoned off. The first officer on the scene ushered them into the back of his police car, took their details and asked a few questions. He jotted down brief statements from them both and requested that they come down to the police station the next day to fill out proper ones.
By the time they got out of the car, great stretches of the road were cordoned off with police tape. A small white tent was covering where Kevin had been lying. It didn’t go far enough to cover Elvis.
Charlie put a comforting arm around Regan’s shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘There’s no more we can do.’
‘But I think Elvis was following me … and if Kevin ran after him, then—’
‘Stop,’ said Charlie, firmly. ‘Don’t even go there.’
Regan’s whole body had started to shake and she couldn’t control it. She wasn’t sure if it was shock or because she was wet through to the skin. ‘I can’t leave Elvis like that,’ she said, watching another police officer step over him. ‘They’ll dump him somewhere.’ She choked back more tears. ‘Kevin wouldn’t have wanted that.’
Charlie squeezed her arm. ‘Okay. Let’s see if they’ll let us take him back to mine. We could bury him in the garden.’ Charlie went and spoke to the police officer who had taken their details and he waved Charlie under the tape. Regan watched Charlie crouch down and reverently lift the dead weight of Elvis into his arms. The sight was almost too much for Regan. Charlie put his cheek to Elvis’s face and the gesture nearly made Regan’s legs crumple.
Charlie’s head jerked up. ‘Reg!’ he shouted, his face spreading into a grin. ‘He’s alive!’
Regan found herself on a plastic chair in the dimly lit waiting area of a charity-funded veterinary hospital. Charlie was asleep next to her. The kind barman who’d held the brolly had driven them there after calling his sister who was a veterinary nurse, and the on-call vet had been waiting for them when they pulled up. That had been three hours ago and she’d heard nothing since. She figured the longer they worked on Elvis, the better. It almost felt like they were making more of an effort with the dog than they had with Kevin – although she knew this wasn’t the case. She couldn’t comprehend why theyhad stopped trying to resuscitate Kevin, although Charlie told her he was pretty sure Kevin had died instantly and there would have been nothing anyone could have done. Elvis, it seemed, had come off slightly better.
Her mind had had time to mull over the evening’s events – there wasn’t much else to do in a closed vet’s surgery in the early hours of the morning. She remembered the sickening sounds of the car, the sensation of the pavement jarring her limbs as she ran flat out, and the sight of Kevin and Elvis lying on the crossing – an image that was now etched behind her eyes. In the edge of her vision she’d seen the car driving off at speed, but in truth what she’d really seen was the flurry of spray it had left in its wake. She’d been too focused on Kevin to look at the vehicle that had killed him. She closed her eyes and tried to picture it. If she could recall a part of the number plate, or the car’s make or model, or even its paint colour, it would be something to help the police, but it was a blur of teeming rain and rear lights. Nothing helpful at all.
She must have drifted off to sleep because a tap on her shoulder made her jolt to consciousness. Charlie did the same. They both sat up like expectant parents. The vet’s expression was stern.
‘We’ve done all we can …’
‘Oh no,’ said Regan, swallowing down tears. ‘You can’t let him die. You can’t—’
The vet held up his hand and his expression softened. ‘For tonight. We’ve done all we can for tonight. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he is out of surgery, and he’s sleeping. You can come and see him if you’d like to?’
Regan rubbed away a rogue tear as she got to her feet. They followed the vet out through the other side of aconsulting room, down a corridor and into a very brightly lit room filled with built-in animal pens of varying sizes. Elvis filled the floor space of one of the larger pens. He had a drip up and was lying on a comfy-looking bed. Regan knelt down at the grille. ‘Look at you, buddy. I bet you’ve never known such luxury.’ Elvis didn’t move.
‘The bed is heated,’ said the vet. ‘The drip is to keep his fluids up; he lost some blood during surgery.’
‘How much will all this cost?’ asked Charlie. ‘I think I explained that he’s not actually our dog.’
‘I know,’ said the vet. ‘We’re a charity, so as the owner was homeless it’ll be taken care of – but we’re always grateful for any contributions you feel able to make. For now let’s concentrate on getting him fit.’
